


Son of Durin

by Lady_Arkena



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arkena/pseuds/Lady_Arkena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: In this AU, there is no shiny Arkenstone. Indeed, the biggest treasure the dwarves possess are the most direct heirs of Durin ( flit very helpfully described them as the oldest sons of oldest sons). They are considered living gemstones, breathing relics of utmost worth. The Heirs live, sequestered away, hidden like treasures, in a certain part of the city that’s off-limits for anyone but the King and an elite guard.</p><p>Dwalin was just made such a guard. He meets the greatest dwarven treasure - a spoiled, innocent and young princeling who is so very lonely…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Durin

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should finish my other fics first, but I rediscovered this wonderful prompt and here we are. It’s nothing graphic and nsfw so far, but this will change later :D
> 
> Original prompt on Hobbit Kink Meme: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=2570427#t2570427

Dwalin sighed in frustration while Balin walked beside him, exhorting and advising him nonstop. “Shut up already,” he growled and glared at his older brother. “You won't believe it, but I have some sense of decency.”

“I know.” Balin apologised and looked up ruefully. “But it's such a great honour to serve Prince Thorin. I mean you're barely an adult and already a Guard of Durin's Sons. I know you are a good fighter, but I wouldn't dare to hope that you are so … sorry.” He flinched when he noticed the other dwarf's frown.

“Thanks. Such praise out of your mouth,” the young warrior grumbled sarcastically and ran his fingers through his Mohawk. “Besides I'm his guard, not his damn servant.”

“I'm really sorry. I'm just nervous and …” Balin smiled and suddenly enfolded his brother in his arms. “I'm so proud of you, little brother,” he murmured in a breathy voice.

Dwalin blushed slightly, but returned the embrace nonetheless.

-^-^-^-

“He is the new one?” Crystal blue eyes examined Dwalin thoroughly. Prince Thorin sprawled in a cosy armchair, playing with the mithril beads in his black hair.

“You wished for a younger guard after all and your grandfather generously granted you your wish. So behave yourself,” his mother, Princess Frera scolded him.

“Yes, Amad,” the princeling promised half-heartedly.

Frera glared at her son. “I'm serious. The king almost lost his temper when he heard of your last tantrum. You should have been grateful for such a famous guard like Master Boran, but you insulted him instead. If you scare Dwalin off, you have to bear the consequences.”

“It's not my fault that this old fool of a guard can't take a joke.” The young dwarf rolled his eyes and pouted, “Why do I need a babysitter anyway? I can take care of myself. I'm one of the best fighters in this damn mountain. I even bested your great Master Boran and he is one of father's weapon-masters and head of the Guard.”

“Thorin! Just behave yourself. Please, do it for me,” the princess sighed tiredly. Only when her son nodded reluctantly she turned and approached Dwalin. “Welcome to the Guards of Durin's Sons. Thorin is a good boy … he just goes through a difficult phase right now.”

The warrior bowed his head in understanding and gazed after her when she hastily left the room. He had never learned to know his own mother. She had died when he had been born, but sometimes he desperately wished for her to still be alive.

“You're name is Dwalin?” Thorin's question brought him back to reality.

“Yes, my prince. Dwalin, son of Fundin.”

“So surely you want to kneel down, assuring me that it's a great honour to be my guard and that you will do anything for me,” the young prince asked with a bored expression. “But before you start, I want something to drink.” He gestured to the small table in front of him, where a crystalline carafe with water and four golden cups stood.

Dwalin raised one eyebrow and growled, “I'm your guard, not your humble servant, kneeling at your feet. I will protect you and gladly die for you, but when you want some water then bend forward and fetch it yourself.”

“What? … How … how dare you?” Thorin sprang to his feet. His handsome face distorted into an angry grimace. “I'm a son of Durin the Deathless and you will do what I say.”

“No, I won't. I'm your guard, not your servant,” the warrior replied, being completely unimpressed by the princeling's rage. “But how about a little bet. If you are able to defeat me in a fight, I will not only protect you, but serve you, too.”

“You regret this. I'll teach you to treat me correctly,” the young dwarf spat and grabbed his sword, attacking the warrior. But Dwalin only smiled and stepped aside, avoiding the sharp blade with no trouble. Thorin screamed furiously and went after him. Sword and axe clashed again and again.

“Not bad, my prince, but you have to learn much more before you're ready for a real fight,” the guard chuckled after half an hour.

“You know nothing. I bested Master Boran ...”

“He let you win.”

“You're lying,” the prince roared and dashed forward. But before Thorin knew what happened he was pinned down to the ground with a smirking warrior above him. He struggled and screamed for a few minutes, but to no avail. Dwalin just held him down until the slender body under him went limp.

“Let me go or I tell my grandfather,” the princeling whined with unshed tears in his eyes. He gulped nervously when the warrior bent forward, gently pressing their foreheads together. 

“Nobody likes a spoiled, little brat, my prince,” Dwalin breathed. “You're one of Durin's sons, a living treasure of our race, Mahal's greatest gift and I will protect your life with mine. But you won't humiliate me. So tell me who I am?”

Thorin was completely mesmerised. Nobody had ever dared to treat him like this. He was used to flatterer and humble servants, but nobody had ever defied and contradicted him … nobody had ever been so absolutely honest with him. “You're my guard,” he whispered, “and … and not my servant.”

“Do you behave now, my prince.”

Thorin nodded weakly. “Yes, I behave myself … I promise.”


End file.
